


The Price of Dignity

by Larien04



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rape, Rape Recovery, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-04
Updated: 2011-05-04
Packaged: 2017-11-07 16:16:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/433069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larien04/pseuds/Larien04
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur discovers that Francis lost his virginity to Scotland and eventhough it was a long time ago he is livid. He goes to confront Scotland and things dont go the way he imagines.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Arthur stood impatiently waiting for the resident of the home inside to answer his door. He was pissed and he was going to give the bastard a piece of his mind. "Open up you damn alcoholic!" he shouted banging on the door.

The door opened and he was greeted by the man he hated more than anyone on this earth "Oi, what the fuck do you want, brother?" the last word was sneered.

Arthur pushed his way into Scotland's home "What the fuck were you thinking?" he shouted, clearly pissed off.

The Scotsman's eyes glinted dangerously "Already looking for a fight, little brother, and it's not even noon? I have to ask why you're here, though; shouldn't you be in France bending over for that frog you love so much?"

The English Nation narrowed his eyes as he remembered the conversation he had had with France last night before they went to bed…

Arthur had always cherished time with his husband after sex, though he would never admit it, it was a time where they could just be together with no distractions from the outside world. Francis enjoyed this time as well because it was the only time Arthur would allow him to hold him for any length of time. They would whisper all sorts of things to each other in the darkness tangled together, they would talk about their future, they would talk of times past, but they would never argue or fight with one another during this time because that would ruin the magic.

"Tell me," Arthur spoke softly "Who was your first?"

The man holding him tensed "Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answer to, cheri" France returned.

Arthur cocked his eyebrow "What are you talking about? Of course I want to know."

Francis' grip tightened on his partner knowing that as soon as he answered that their magic moment of peace would end. "You can't be angry with me because this was before you were even born…."

Arthur laughed at the ridiculousness of the statement "Was it that Spanish idiot? That wouldn't bother me; I don't really hate him anymore. I just pretend to on occasion when you've both had too much sauce."

The French Nation half smiled "Non, it wasn't Antonio…"

"Who then?"

"It was Scotland…"

"From what I hear; you used to do very much the same back in the day." England eventually responded answering his brother's question.

The auburn haired man took one quick step towards the Island Nation and grabbed him by his shirt collar "What did you say you little punk?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, unflinching and shrugged out of his brothers grip "I'm not afraid you anymore so you can just knock off that attitude of yours. And are you embarrassed by it? You weren't even that good in bed from what I hear."

Scotland had just about had it with his little brothers attitude, he wasn't sure who the fuck Arthur thought he was but he sure as hell wasn't going to come into his house and bring up painful memories for his amusement. Picking the younger nation up by his collar he slammed the man against the wall "Bastard. You better watch your fucking mouth. I don't know where you are hearing these lies, but you better knock it off before I beat the shit out of you."

Refusing to cow to his brother he looked him in the eye with a smirk on his face and a mocking tone in his voice "What? Is big brother Scotland embarrassed by his past?"

The ill-tempered nation moved his hand from holding his brother up by his collar so that he was pinning the man to the wall by his neck "Why the fuck would I be embarrassed? I fucked that kid before he decided to fuck you in the ass instead."

The Brit narrowed his eyes his eyes dangerously, struggling to get free "You might have kept him around a bit longer if you hadn't been such a prick."

Scotland tightened his grip on his brothers throat painfully "I'd watch what you say, I could end you right here and now little brother."

This was not the position that Arthur envisioned he would be in right now; if anything it was Scotland who should be up against the wall and not him. Moving swiftly he landed a knee to his brother's gut and moved away quickly when he wrenched back in pain. "I told you, you don't frighten me" he started, straightening his collar and smoothing out his shirt. "Besides, I only came to ask you why you had to pick him. I never actually intended to pick a fight with you."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Why couldn't you have fucked someone else?" he whispered "Now I'm going to see your face every time we have sex."

Taking out a cigarette and lighting it Scotland took a moment to take a long drag off it before blowing the smoke in Arthurs face "I can fuck who I want, when I want." He took a single step and was in the Brits face "He was so tight back then but he enjoyed it. He moaned my name every night and day until you had to come along and rat to him about how I would beat you at night. You're the entire fucking reason he left me. If you had just kept your fucking mouth shut he would have never left me. I should have beaten your ass harder." Remembering the look of disgust on France's face from so long ago when he had found out that he was abusing Arthur made something twist painfully inside the Scottish Nation and he grabbed Arthur once more and slammed him into the wall with such force that he nearly knocked the breathe out of the Englishman. There would be a nice indentation of Arthurs form in the wall but he would deal with that later. "You know what I think?" he whispered into his brother's ear in a lethal tone "I think I've earned myself some payback."

"What the fuck are you talking about you bleeding psychopath?" Arthur struggled but Scotland used his strength to pin the nation against the wall tight so that he couldn't move.

The grin on Scotland's face matched the utterly sadistic look in his eyes and Arthur started to wonder if maybe he shouldn't have come here to begin with.

Taking his half smoked cigarette and tapping it so that the ashes fell onto Arthurs perfectly pressed white shirt he grinned once before putting it out on the English Nations neck.

The British Nation would absolutely not give the bastard the satisfaction of hearing him scream so he bit down on his lip making a tiny trail of blood from the amount of force exerted. "You son of a bitch, I have scars that go deeper than that. I told you, you can't frighten me."

"Oh you think so? I'm about to give you the deepest scar you could possibly imagine, twat." In one swift motion he ripped the man's pants and boxers from him and looked directly at the British Nations decidedly flaccid penis. "Hah, pathetic. I guess I was telling the truth when I told everyone you were a little prick." Forcing Arthur's hands above his head he held them in place with one hand, pressing his body weight against the rest of him so he couldn't move, and he used his remaining hand to start to undo his pants.

England's eyes went wide in fear "What the fuck are you doing you son of a bitch? I'm your goddamn brother! Even you aren't that sick in the head!"

Using all the strength of a nation the older man roughly tossed his brother onto the floor on his stomach and was on top of him in a seconds time "'I'm just getting what I'm owed you little brat" and without waiting a second longer he thrust inside the younger nation roughly without any sense of lubrication or gentleness.

Tears brimmed at Arthurs eyes from the immense pain and but he refused to let them fall. "I will kill you" he managed to grit out.

Scotland pulled out and then thrust in as hard as possible leaning over the man's back and whispering into his ear "If you try, I'll rape you again. Do you remember right before the Hundred Years War began, Arthur?" The nation thrusted roughly as he told the story' "In 1334 when I fought for my independence against you and Francis offered us asylum in his country? He halted a peace treaty that was in the works between you two and said that there would only be a treaty of peace if you included Scotland in the treaty? You always wondered why he did that didn't you?"

Arthur didn't dignify the question with a response.

"Now you know why" was the smug answer.

"Do you remember around that same time when I killed two thousand of your men in a single raid and destroyed your crops and your home?" Arthur spat in response.

"Shut your mouth, whore. I'll tell everyone about this nice little prick you have. I know you've got to be hard for me by now." So saying he reached a hand down and smirked broadly when he felt Arthur's erection "I can't wait to tell Francis how hard you were for me little brother."

Arthur knew he was hard but he would never ever admit it outloud"There's not a chance in hell that I would ever get hard for you."

Grabbing his brother's ripped boxers from the floor the Scottish Nation shoved them in England's mouth to gag him "That ought to shut you up. Little shit. I've heard way too much out of your mouth already."

Gagging on his own boxers was not something British Nation relished in, he spat them out with force. "Fuck you. Why are you really doing this to me? Is it because you were in love with him? Did you try and get him back but were unable to succeed because you don't know how to be anything but a fucking twat?" He might not be have been able to move from the position he was in but he could still fight back; psychologically.

"Enough out of you!" he picked up the pace, eager to be finished with the little bastard so he could have a drink.

England's voice was something between breathless passion and pure hatred "Looks like I've hit a sore spot. Do you cry at night for your long lost love? How does it feel to know that you lost out to your little brother?"

"It doesn't matter now, he's not that tight little cry baby like he was back then. Looks like I fucked some manliness into him."

Arthur shook his head fiercely "He hasn't let anybody top him since you. You did something to him but it wasn't that."

Scotland grinned broadly "He just wanted to know what it was like to be me. He wanted the power, the control, and to feel the little guy squirm under him; that's the only reason he's ever been with you." And with that he gave a few hard quick thrusts and pulled out to come all over Arthur's legs and backside.

Letting go of the English Nation he leaned against the sofa arm and looked down at his brother with a satisfactory grin "Get the fuck up off my floor and take your torn pants and boxers home to your husband to fix. Let him see your battered body; the blood and cum dripping down your legs and tell him to give me a call sometime."

The country known as England slumped to the floor and watched with a detached gaze as his brother smoothed out his own clothes before picking up the torn boxers and pants and walking out the front door, dropping the clothes just outside the door.


	2. Chapter 2

The English Nation arrived at his London home after a long drive later but not before he had taken a pair of pants and a belt from his brother's room. The pants had been much too big for his slim frame and he detested wearing the other man's clothes but he wasn't about to go driving through the country side pants less.

Pulling out his government issued Blackberry; possibly the only thing he detested more than his bastard of a brother, he looked at the time and noted that it was nearing 7:30pm. His husband was probably having a heart attack back at their Parisian home wondering why he hadn't come home yet. Arthur felt physically nauseous at the thought of facing Francis right now after what had just happened; there was no way in hell he was ever going to tell the man what had happened. If he ever happened to notice the burn on his neck then he would just explain that he had gotten into another quarrel with Scotland, which was technically not a lie and was perfectly believable.

Walking into the kitchen to make himself some dinner he noted that he still had the torn and bloody undergarments in his hand and he angrily tossed them in the garbage leaving the kitchen in a huff; he didn't exactly have an appetite anyways.

Marching up the stairs he started the shower in the bathroom; intent on scrubbing every inch of his body clean. Undoing his belt and getting out of the borrowed pants as fast as possible he decided he would burn the garments later and send the ashes back to Scotland in the mail. Taking his shirt off he frowned at the now black smear of ash on his white shirt and tossed it roughly to the ground in frustration.

Stepping into the shower and letting the water run over his body he took the bar of soap and began to scrub everywhere in an attempt to get the vision of that bastard's arrogant smirk out of his head. It didn't matter how hard he scrubbed or how raw his skin became, though, he still couldn't get those damning words out of his head 'He just wanted to know what it was like to be me. He wanted the power, the control, and to feel the little guy squirm under him; that's the only reason he's ever been with you.' The Brit shook his head fiercely not willing to believe the words and stepped out of the shower just in time to hear his cell phone ring.

He knew who it was without looking at the caller id and he ignored it until it went to voicemail. He didn't want to talk to Francis right now; he knew that the instant he looked at him he would confess everything and he was not about to allow that. Toweling off, he slipped a pair of soft pajama pants on as well as a simple t shirt and pressed the button for the voicemail to play "Arthur, it's me. Please answer your phone; you were supposed to be home hours ago. I'm worried sick." The British Nation frowned at the tone of his husband's voice but it couldn't be helped; he just wasn't ready to face him yet.

Heading towards the couch on the first floor he was annoyed to feel his phone vibrate again. Sighing he picked it up, knowing that if he didn't answer then Francis would start freaking out and start looking for him. "I'm fine. I just got caught up in some business and it got to be later than I thought" the Brit answered, not even bothering with a greeting.

There was silence on the phone for a moment before the man on the other end responded "When will you be home Arthur?"

The British Nations heart constricted at Francis' tone, the man sounded so lonely and upset. "I'll be home tomorrow" he promised.

There was another moment of silence and Arthur thought he could hear the sound of keys being jostled in the background. "Arthur, is something not right? Are you sure you're fine?"

Damn Francis for knowing him so well. "I'm just exhausted. No need to worry."

"Come home cher, you need rest."

"I think I'm going to stay in London tonight...it's getting late."

"I'll meet you there in an hour" came the instantaneous reply.

Arthur knew he was losing this battle fast "No. Stay there. It's late. I promise I'll be home first thing tomorrow morning."

He could perfectly envision Francis shaking his head on the other end of the phone "Non, I insist. I'll cook you a nice hot meal when I get there."

"No. Absolutely not." Why the hell couldn't that wine bastard ever understand that he wanted to be left alone for once? He was too vulnerable; too weak right now, he didn't want France to see him like this at all.

"Arthur, why don't you want me to come to London? Don't you remember when you used to ask me to meet you there after a long day at work? Please, let me come take care of you, je t'aime Arthur."

The Brit hesitated for a moment weighing his options; one the one hand he truly did want Francis there to hold him and tell him everything was fine; he wasn't ashamed to admit that he found comfort in the Frenchman's arms. He was ashamed to admit, though, that he had been taken advantage of by his bastard of a brother. "I...don't need you to worry about me damnit" and with that he hung up the phone, pressing the button down that would shut his phone off for the evening. He knew, though, that that wasn't going to be enough to deter Francis; if he knew anything about the man at all he knew that right about now he was driving to the airport and would be walking through his door in around a hour's time.

Surely enough about an hour and a half later he heard a key being put through his lock and his name being called from the doorway.

Putting a pillow over his head he attempted to delay the inevitable for as long as possible. It was only a matter of seconds though before he felt the pillow being tugged from his face. "Arthur, you didn't seriously think that that was going to work did you?"

"Yes" came the mumbled reply. "I thought I told you to stay at home, why are you here?"

Ignoring the Brits harsh tone Francis knelt down so he was eye level with Arthur and ran his hand through his hair lovingly "Arthur, I was worried about you, what else could I do?"

"Stayed home" was the annoyed response, but Francis noticed that Arthur wasn't exactly pulling away from his touch.

"Tell me what's wrong, cheri, you're upset, please, talk to me."

Arthur didn't want the frog there but he couldn't exactly do anything about it now so he decided the best course of action was to just act as if nothing had happened "I'm just exhausted is all; I had to pay a visit to my brother today."

"Scotty?"

Arthur flinched at Francis' nickname of his bastard brother like they were old pals or something. "Yes" he gritted out.

A knowing look crossed Francis' features "A coincidence that you suddenly had to visit him on business the morning after I told you I slept with him."

Arthur didn't respond and Francis wasn't looking to get on Arthur's bad side any more than he already seemed to be so he let it go for the moment. "It doesn't matter. How about some dinner? I promised you a hot meal and I intend to keep my word." Not waiting for a response he pulled the nation up and led him to the kitchen pulling out a seat for Arthur at the dining table and then rummaging through the cabinets to see what god awful food Arthur kept in his house on a regular basis.

"Mon dieu, Arthur, your stock is deplorable" he held out a box of instant rice "Is this really all you have?"

The Brit had the decency to look ashamed "Forgive me for not keeping a fully stocked kitchen; usually I spend my nights in Paris."

Francis smiled a little putting the bag of rice into a pan of water and turning on the heat to the oven. He wondered what the hell had gotten into Arthur to put him in such a mood. It didn't matter though; he would tell him in time, he always did.

Taking the now empty box of rice he moved to step on the little lever that would pop open the trash can and his heart stopped at the sight of what he saw. He picked up the torn pants that were bunched up in the trashcan stared at them in confusion. "Arthur, what is this? Are these your clothes?"

The color drained from Arthurs face "Fuck" he swore, he had completely forgotten he had tossed those in there. Why the hell did he have to choose the most obvious place in the world to discard the clothes?

"It's nothing, Francis…." Arthur's voice was tight with emotion. He didn't want to do this now, damnit; what he wanted was to go to bed and forget anything had ever happened.

Francis turned the clothes over, inspecting them and trying to make sense of what was happening and then he eyed the boxers that had been bunched up into a ball. A look of horror and disgust washed over his face as he eyed the stained material. "Is this blood?" he asked incredulously "Merde, Arthur, are these cum stains?"

Refusing to listen to his husband's hysterical findings a moment longer the Brit got up from his seat and quickly exited the room heading up the steps towards the bedroom.

Swearing in French and turning the oven off Francis tossed the clothes back into the garbage can before following Arthur out of the room and grabbing him by the arm halfway up the stairs "Arthur! I want an explanation."

Arthur wasn't ready for this confrontation just yet; he wasn't ready to admit, out loud, what had happened earlier. He needed Francis gone so that he could deal with his issues alone and he knew there was only one sure fire way he would be able to get the man out of his house but it was going to hurt like hell. "What's there to explain? I got horny; you weren't around. Put two and two together" he snapped.

Now, Arthur had never generally been one for lying; the couple had always had an unspoken pact of brutal honesty with each other, which occasionally made things tense around the household but overall it saved them from many arguments and lost time spent beating around the bush. This was different though; there was not a chance in hell that he was going to admit he had gone over his brother's house to get some answers out of him only to come back sexually assaulted and scarred; he was a man after all, and even more than that he was a bleeding nation; he had some dignity.

Francis cocked an eyebrow "Arthur, what do you mean?"

"I never said the clothes were mine" came the arrogant response accompanied with a perfect poker face. Arthur really had never been one for lying; but that didn't mean that he wasn't good at it when he wanted to be.

The Frenchman dropped his grip on Arthurs arm in shock "What?" he breathed, completely taken aback, "Arthur what are you saying?"

"Don't worry about it, France, it doesn't mean a thing. I got worked up talking things over with my brother and I had to work off some steam."

"…France?" the only time Arthur had ever called him that was either when it was business dealing with their respective countries or back when they couldn't stand the sight of one another. "Arthur, this isn't a game. Were you…?" he couldn't even think the words much less speak them out loud, the thought of Arthur with someone else made him ill.

"Was I what?"

"…with somebody else?" the words were barely audible.

" I certainly couldn't have done those things to the boxers by myself."

The look that crossed Francis' eyes was not one that he had been accustomed to seeing; the man's eyes had always been a cool gentle blue no matter what the situation; it didn't matter if they were fighting or making love, he could always see himself reflected in the beautiful sapphire orbs. These eyes were different; they were a hard cold ice blue and Arthur had only seen that expression once before and that had been when he had ordered the death of a certain blonde girl in the 1430's. "Who was it?" the tone was tempered as if he was holding back a great deal of emotion. "Who did you fuck, Arthur?"

It was at that very moment that Arthur realized that he probably should have chosen a different lie than the one he was currently perpetuating, but there was no going back now. "I... didn't get his name" he lied, voice a little shaken "I don't even remember what happened really, the bastard and I were fighting and then everything is a blur afterwards."

"Merde!" he shouted in disbelief and anger "I can't fucking believe you!" He shoved Arthur against the wall with force making the Brit wince in pain from his previous injury "What were you thinking? We're married, we have a life together!"

"Don't worry, darling, it didn't mean a thing to me" he prayed to God that Francis didn't hear the tremble in his voice. "I suppose you'll be leaving then?" he questioned when it was clear that Francis wasn't going to respond.

"Non. I will not be leaving; I'm going to get to the bottom of this right this second." That said he pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed a single number.

"If you don't mind; I'm going to bed now."

"Don't move" came the command and it was in such a tone that Arthur stayed perfectly still.

"Yes, it's France. What do you mean you knew I would call you? No, Arthur did not give me any instruction to phone you. Listen, what happened between the two of you today; Arthur told me that you got in a fight and then he left your house and he claims to have picked up a local man to 'blow off some steam' with." He then hit the speaker phone button on his phone so that Arthur could hear every word.

"Ha. Is that what the little bastard said? He's lying to you. The only name he was moaning was my own."

"You're his brother; there's not a chance he would have slept with you, I'm not playing games right now, please tell me what happened, Scott."

"Oh I'm telling you the truth alright; you should have seen it, he was so hard –" France hit the "End" button on the phone before Scotland could get any more explicit.

"Just tell me why, Arthur."

"Fuck, Francis I don't know. I was horny. Can I go to bed or not?"

The heart broken Frenchman shook his head in disbelief and anger "You sicken me. Go to bed. I'll be down stairs; it's too late to go back to Paris tonight but I will be gone in the morning."

This was not what Arthur wanted at all; he had just wanted Francis to leave for the evening, not for good. He had planned on confessing everything in the morning and smoothing things over; all he had wanted was to be alone with his thoughts for the evening not to drive the man away for good. His heart constricted painfully and he could barely breathe "Francis…" he managed "This wasn't what I wanted…"

"This wasn't what I wanted either, mon Angleterre" he whispered in return turning to head down the steps.

Arthur's eyes went wide and he grabbed the man by the wrist, much in the same way that Francis had grabbed him earlier. "Come upstairs with me…" he pleaded "I'll tell you what happened."

"Arthur, I'm exhausted, don't waste anymore of my time."

The Brit tugged on the man's arm, pulling him up the steps "Please."

The French Nation let out a ragged breath shaking his head but following Arthur to the bedroom anyways.

The Englishman led his husband to sit on the edge of the bed and took a seat next to him. Without a word he slowly removed his t shirt, tossing it into a corner. "What do you see?" he asked tilting his neck, voice barely above a whisper.

Francis eyes immediately went to the bright red burn mark on Arthur's neck and he ghosted his fingers over it "Where did this come from?"

"From a cigarette…"

"Whose?" he knew the answer but he didn't want to believe it.

"I told you that Scott and I got in a fight...he may have gained the upper hand."

The proverbial light bulb went off in Francis' head and his eyes went wide "You didn't willingly sleep with him did you?"

"Never" he responded with conviction "He said that he had earned himself some payback from when you left him….I didn't want to tell you tonight, or ever, I didn't want you to know I was so…weak."

Francis didn't know what to believe, he didn't want to believe that Scotland would do such a terrible thing to his brother but Arthur would not have made up a story that twisted. "Is this the truth?" he asked with some trepidation.

The Brit nodded wordlessly in response, hanging his head and refusing to meet Francis' eyes.

"Why couldn't you tell me this from the beginning?" Francis asked, using a finger to lift Arthurs head so he had to look him in his eyes.

"I was afraid of what you would think of me, Francis, so I lied to preserve some semblance of dignity….but seeing you turn your back to me to go down those steps made me realize that losing you was too high a price to pay for my dignity. Please, forgive me."

"You're such an idiot" the Frenchman chastised, wrapping his arms around his love and kissing his forehead.

"I know." Arthur tightened his grip on his love afraid that any moment he would get up and leave. "Please, stay…" he pleaded.

"Arthur, tell me something, do you really want me to stay?" and it was clear that his tone meant something more permanent than just for the night.

"Yes" he responded immediately.

"You're still in trouble for putting my heart through such an ordeal and we will discuss what I'm going to do with you in the morning, but the bottom line is this; I love you more than words can express but if you ever lie to me again I will not tolerate it. Do you understand?"

"Yes" the Englishman breathed out, heart beating rapidly.

"Bon. Now kiss me" he smiled laying his one true love back on the bed and pressing his lips lightly to the burn on the man's neck. Things wouldn't be exactly perfect between them for a while but for now they would end the night how they always did; in each other's arms.


End file.
